


Demon's Daughter

by lilnome



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler, Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Black Cat Marinette, Gen, cambion marinette, sebastian is Marintte's father
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:08:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22361602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilnome/pseuds/lilnome
Summary: Marinette Dupain-Cheng-Michaelis jus turned sixteen, which means she has one year left living a normal life before her father Sebastian whisks her away to see the world, and to finish coming into her demonic power. What will the last year of what seems like her 'real' life hold?
Comments: 26
Kudos: 147





	1. Chapter 1

Marinette’s birthday was always a bittersweet day. She would only be able to celebrate seventeen with her family before her Dad whisked her away, after all. Not that many people would care, aside from her parents, Uncle J, and Auntie Penny. Today was a normal school day, as far as her classmates were concerned, and that suited Marinette just fine. She would be leaving in a year, just one more year of this torture and she would be free. Some may say calling becoming a social pariah ‘torture’ too far, but her Dad had told her that making someone watch as their loved ones and friends abandoned them was a legitimate torture method used in Hell, so those people could suck it. 

Marinette revved her engine and adjusted her grip, waiting for the light to turn green. Her Nona had given Marinette her birthdaygift a month early, and gracious, she loved it. It was a Yamaha motorcycle, custom wrapped in her favorite shade of hot pink, almost red, with dark splotches like ink splatters all over. The piping was all chrome, and man, did  
she love the feeling of the wind whipping through her hair as she wove her way through Parisian traffic. She came to a gentle stop in front of her school, dismounting, smirking at the way several students stopped to stare. She may be the least popular girl in her class, but she knew her demonic heritage guaranteed that she would draw a few admirers. A perfect mix of her father’s pitch black hair, height, and pale skin, with her mother’s gray eyes (most of the time) and curves, she was quite the looker. She grabbed the handles of her baby and wheeled it off to the side, where there was an open parking space. She opened the saddle bag and grabbed the boot she kept there, clamping it on the back tire. She refused to lose such a precious gift to human greed. 

Marinette stood, snagging her messenger bag and making her way into the building as she pulled her hair out of the sloppy bun she had shoved it into. She had kept it pretty short when she was younger, as it was less work, but now that she had no social obligations, she was able to grow it out like she wanted. The inky locks now brushed the small of her back, and she took great care to keep it healthy. As she took the steps at a leisurely pace, she used the brush she kept in her bag to part and brush her hair, combing the sections back and up before braiding them and twisting them into double buns at the top of her head. As she finished, she twisted about enough to hip check open the door to her classroom (it was never locked, not after she ‘accidentally’ locked Lila out one day. It was a major safety hazard, but she didn’t really care. Not much could hurt her.) She twirled back around, enjoying the way her flowy skirt flipped about her legging-clad legs. She jogged up the stairs to the back, firing off a quick text to her Dad as she shrugged out of her leather jacket. She nimbly dodged the leg Alix had in the aisle, and slumped into her seat with a sigh.

She really hated mornings, even if it wasn’t her turn to patrol the night before. Last night, her partner Coccinelle had been on patrol, leaving Marinette to relax at home. She had even video chatted with her Dad! He was in India, visiting her Uncle Agni. He had mentioned sending someone to check up on her, so she really ought to be keeping an eye open. She had no clue which member of her insane family could be dropping by, but she hoped it was her Auntie Grell. She always had the best ideas for new designs, even if she had an affinity for making everything red. Marinette sighed and pulled out her tablet, launching google classroom and getting ready for History. She knew what she was being taught was heavily whitewashed, but it was better for someone like her to be able to blend in. It was the same for Juleka. Kids like them needed skills to hide in plain sight. She felt something tap her leg, and she brought her small black purse up to sit on her desk, propping it open. The good part of sitting alone was that no one would notice if she spoke quietly.

“Plagg, what’s up? “She asked, her kwami staring at her.

“Goth girl has been _trying_ to get your attention for five minutes.” He huffed; arms crossed. 

“Alright.” She murmured, barely moving her lips. “Thanks for the heads up. “She gently scratched between his ear, before  
shutting her purse and putting it back on the floor. She glanced over at Juleka, who subtly pointed towards the front and rolled her eyes. Marinette nodded in commiseration, before turning her attention to the front of the class. She kept her eyes on her tablet, but used a touch of demonic magic to enhance her hearing.

“I would _love_ to get you Jagged Stone tickets, Nino! But, you see, I hate to use my connections like that. It would just feel like I’m taking advantage of people I care about…” The liar simpered, biting her lip.

“No problem, dudette!” Nino reassured her. “I totally get it.” She shut down her magic and rolled her eyes at Juleka. She mimicked talking with her hand, and the half-banshee giggled, a delightful sound. Though banshees were more associated with pain, anger, sadness, and fear, they, when happy, exuded an aura of peace that could affect others.

“Attention, class! I just posted a power point to Google Classroom, please pull that up and follow along!” Mademoiselle Bustier called from the front. Marinette tapped her tablet screen to wake it up, and settled in for another long day. ‘Just one more year’ she thought to herself. ‘Yeah, just one more year.’


	2. Chapter 2

The same day at lunch, Marinette had just exited the classroom after everyone else had left when she was accosted by a figure dressed in all black. She stumbled back a step, barely catching her balance. She managed to look up at the figure, only to squeal when she saw who it was, and eagerly return the hug.

“Uncle John!” She cried when he picked her up and swung her about. John was not the man’s real name, but a nom de plume he used to blend with the humans. The full name was John Therapon, and he was listed as one of her legal guardians (she had a lot).

“Little Mari!” He shouted, setting her down. He was an odd looking man, with waist length platinum hair in a warrior braid and green eyes like poison, he would always draw attention. He only drew more with his fashion sense. Her Uncle wore a long black trench coat over black skinny jeans and a black button up, with a clunky looking wallet chain. He also wore a thick chain-link necklace and heavy motorcycle boots. Over all, he looked like someone’s goth/emo/punk cousin more than an ancient immortal being who reaped souls.

“Are you the one Dad said was coming to check on me?” She asked, stepping back and adjusting her buns, which had come loose when he had glomped her.

“Indeed, I am, little chaos bringer!” He twirled her around and bowed low, pressing a kiss to her hand. “And for your birthday, I have a _very_ special surprise!” He reached into his coat and pulled out a small business card, presenting it to her with a flourish, and she giggled as she took it.

**_ 'Turn around!' _ **

It read. Marinette spun on the spot and looked up, only to scream in delight.

“DAD!” She flung herself at the tall, slim figure. Sebastian caught his daughter, wrapping her in a tight hug.

“Hello, dearest.” He smiled, flashing his eyes magenta. She flashed hers as well, making them shine a darker shade of gray.

“I thought you were in India, visiting Uncle Agni?” She asked, stepping back.

“A simple deception, dearest. Now, let’s go pick up your mother and Papa, I made reservations at Raven’s Writing Desk.” Marinette cheered. Raven’s Writing Desk was a Michelin-starred restaurant. The owner’s father had made a questionable deal with Sebastian (ten years of life and a successful business, then Sebastian got to eat his soul), so the family got reservations for the best tables and half off whatever they wanted. “We’ll even have some others joining us.” Sebastian teased, patting her head. Right as they reached the sidewalk, a crash echoed from a few miles away, and a plume of smoke filled the air. “Oh dear. It looks like we’ll all have to call and reschedule our reservation. You go handle this, dearest. I’ll go catch up with your mother and Papa.” She sighed, kissed her father on the cheek, and ducked into an alleyway, opening her purse. Plagg zoomed out with a sigh.

“Ooh! Raven’s Writing Desk! I _love_ their cheese curds! Let’s finish this.”

“Agreed.” She grumbled. “Plagg, Claws Out!”

X0X0X

Hell-Cat raced over the rooftops, soaring through the air. The pads in the shape of a cat’s paw on the bottom of her boots silenced her steps, meaning she was a silent black and silver streak, soaring through the air. She landed in a crouch next to her partner and confidant, Coccinelle. Coccinelle nodded at her, twirling her yoyo in front of her as a shield.

Coccinelle’s costume was very different from Hell Cat’s. While Hell Cat wore a black body suit with silver highlights and a pair of pauldrons, Coccinelle wore a short red dress coated in ladybug spots and black leggings. Hell Cat’s boots reached her knees, while her partners went maybe an inch above her ankle. Whereas Coccinelle’s gloves were plain black and only went to her wrists, Hell Cat’s had wickedly sharp silver talons and reached her elbows, where they came to a point.

Even their masks were different. Coccinelle’s was round, and made her blue eyes look huge, while Hell Cat’s was slim and came to wicked looking points on each side of her eyes, making her look more feline. Another feature of Hell Cat’s mask was the magic that made her entire eye gray, the iris a few shades darker than the sclera. While Coccinelle had long, flowy ash blonde hair, Hell Cat’s, when transformed, barely reached her shoulders, and had a blue sheen. While Coccinelle was bright and colorful, Hell Cat was sharp monochrome. The only splash of color was the blue bow around her neck that tied in the front. Lots of small children tended to ask Coccinelle if she was a fairy, since she had wings (They were the tail ends of the scarf she wore) while teens and young adults tended to gravitate towards Hell Cat.

The Akuma was flinging a series of items at them, which all bounced off Coccinelle’s yoyo. The common theme seemed to be car repair. Hell-Cat glanced at her partner.

“What’s the plan?” She asked.

“The Akuma is in his utility belt. I distract, you slash, I swing. From there, clear skies! Ready?” Coccinelle asked. Hell Cat nodded and crouched down, her ribbon tail flicking behind her. She waited until the Akuma reached for yet another projectile and Coccinelle began to monologue before diving at him, claws extended to their fullest. She slashed the belt as soared past the Akuma, who quickly dropped to his knees. As the dark magic bubbled from his skin, Coccinelle landed in front of him and captured the butterfly.

“No more rainy days for you, little akuma! Au revior!” She released the now-purified butterfly, and waved to the cheering people. “Kitty, can you handle the victim?” Coccinelle asked, reholstering her yoyo on her belt.

“Sure, I didn’t use my powers, so I’ve got a few minutes.” Coccinelle waved to the watching civilians and ran off, leaping to the roof of the nearest building with the help of her wings. Hell Cat sheathed her claws and knelt beside the victim; a young man dressed in a repair shop jumpsuit that was covered in grease stains.

“Hell-Cat? Was I…?” The young man asked, staring at her.

“I’m afraid so, monsieur. May I ask why?” She set a hand on the man’s shoulder and guided him over to a nearby ambulance. The paramedic handed her a shock blanket and she wrapped it around his shoulders, as the other paramedic handed the victim a glass of water.

“My family repair shop isn’t doing so good.” He sighed. “My mom was diagnosed with cancer three years ago, and Dad remortgaged the shop so that he could still support the family and pay for Mom’s nurse. Now, we’re pretty successful, so we almost have it payed off.” He growled, clearly frustrated. “Except some big shot at the bank is demanding the remaining twenty-five-thousand euros in a month, or they foreclose the damn shop.” Hell Cat hissed. The bakery was the most successful in all Paris, maybe even France, and they catered a great deal of important events. Even during the busiest time of year, they would struggle to make that much, let alone have that much that didn’t need to go to other bills and buying ingredients. She had an idea.

“What bank is it, and who’s the one demanding the payment?” She asked, plotting. She did need to make another deal soon; her reserves were getting a little low.

“Um…Monsieur Gerard Lilac, at Goliath Banking. Curse his name!” No one asked _why_ she needed the information. Everyone in Paris knew, if you had a problem, Hell-Cat could solve it. No one knew _how_ , just that she made problems (and occasionally people) disappear.

“Hell-Cat!” Someone cried, and she looked up to see Alya charging towards her. This was yet another problem with Alya. She never considered the victims, just the next scoop. Hell Cat stood and blocked her view of the victim, and nodded to the paramedics. The two nodded back and hustled the man into the ambulance, quickly flipping on the lights and driving towards the nearest hospital. All Akuma victims got three one-hour therapy sessions, one right after being cleansed and then one each week for two weeks.

“Yes, mademoiselle?” She asked, crossing her arms.

“Why was the victim Akumatized? What will you be doing to help them? Do you intend to use this to track Hawkmoth? Do you have a statement for the press?” Her phone was inches from Hell-Cat’s face. Her ears were pinned back, and she was _really_ trying not to hiss. How she was ever friends with the girl she’d never know.

“Mademoiselle, the reason for Akumatization is _never_ leaked to the press. We use every attack to track Hawkmoth. And the _only_ statement I have for you is to get your phone out of my face before I break it, along with your hand. Goodbye.” She drew her staff and extended it, vaulting away.


End file.
